


unexceptional timing

by treescape



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Anakin Skywalker, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Obi-Wan Kenobi, Top Anakin Skywalker, Unexpected Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27192506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape
Summary: Now, Obi-Wan had a pregnancy he’d known about for less than an hour and an overreacting alpha who might hurt himself left alone, and heneeded to get into that room.Or, Obi-Wan is rather unexpectedly pregnant—which means it's possibly not the best time for Anakin to go into rut, at least in Anakin's opinion.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 22
Kudos: 422





	unexceptional timing

**Author's Note:**

> From an anonymous prompt from tumblr: Anakin accidentally knocks Obi-Wan up.
> 
> Set near the end of the Clone Wars? I'm imagining that Obi-Wan and Anakin became mated pretty much as soon as Anakin was Knighted.

When it came right down to it, the problem wasn’t the pregnancy, it was the war; at the very least, there was only one of them that Obi-Wan was prepared to regret. Of course, the war was the root of many problems these days, but right now, with Anakin going into rut behind a stubbornly locked door, Obi-Wan only had time to worry about _this_ one.

“Anakin, let me in.”

“If you think for one second I’m going to put you and our baby in danger, you’re out of your karking mind,” Anakin snapped from the other side of their bedroom door. “Obi-Wan, I’m going into _rut_.” He said the words with a fierce desperation, as if Obi-Wan somehow didn’t understand. As if Obi-Wan couldn’t feel it settling in around them, couldn’t practically taste Anakin’s scent as it sharpened, all sunlight and open skies.

“I know,” he said soothingly, and scrubbed one hand roughly over his face. He needed to trim his beard, he thought idly, in that distant way that meant his mind was on hyper alert. “I can smell it, dear one.” He rested his forehead against the door, cool beneath his overheated skin, and tried to breathe through his mouth as much as he could. It didn’t help—it just meant he could taste it, too.

Anakin made a pained noise, but it cut off abruptly, as if he thought that Obi-Wan might actually _leave_ if he couldn’t hear Anakin’s anguish. “Go away, Obi-Wan. Just go off planet, somewhere I can’t find you. Somewhere I can’t _touch_ you.”

 _Force_ , but this was a mess, and it was one that could have been avoided if only he and Anakin hadn’t been needed by this gods-forsaken war, stationed on opposite ends of the galaxy for weeks at a time. No matter how unexpected Obi-Wan’s pregnancy, no matter how early in his first trimester, the changes in his body should have been enough to suppress Anakin’s rut. Obi-Wan’s mate would have been able to smell those changes immediately, even through his (rather spectacularly failed) birth control. As it was, Obi-Wan hadn’t even known he was with child until Anakin had walked into their quarters, nostrils flaring as he stopped shock-still.

By then, of course, it had been too late. Anakin’s rut had been too close to stop; it’s expected approach had been why they were both allowed to return to the Temple in the first place. Now, Obi-Wan had a pregnancy he’d known about for less than an hour and an overreacting alpha who might hurt himself left alone, and he _needed to get into that room_.

“Anakin, do you think I would put our child— _your child_ —at risk? It’s early in the pregnancy. The Healers say this is hardly unheard of and sex is perfectly safe.” Obi-Wan had made sure to confirm _that_ the instant Anakin had bolted into their bedroom. He’d forced himself not to pace in their sitting room as he spoke in a low voice over his commlink, Anakin’s panic seething at the back of his mind.

Anakin’s emotions still coiled through the barrier of the door, though Obi-Wan could tell he was desperately trying to control them. It made something clench within Obi-Wan’s stomach, the instinctual need of an omega to soothe his alpha mingling with his own ever-present desire to be near Anakin. The mere idea of Anakin locking himself away, trying to hide his own distress so that Obi-Wan wouldn’t have to feel it…

Obi-Wan thought, careful and deliberate, about using his saber to burn through the door, but he could feel Anakin slumped against it on the other side. There was no way in without risking harm. It meant that Obi-Wan had only his words. He couldn’t even rely on the driving need of Anakin’s rut to convince him to open the door; Obi-Wan’s pregnancy had apparently put Anakin’s protectiveness into overdrive.

“Rut isn’t…it isn’t _just sex_ , Obi-Wan, and you know it,” Anakin snarled, and Obi-Wan struggled not to sigh in response. It was true that rut could drive an alpha to be even more possessive than usual, exhaustively single-minded in attention and purpose. With Obi-Wan there, Anakin would feel the irresistible need to reopen the mating bite, to claim him again in ways that were both physical and not.

But Anakin did have a tendency for the overdramatic, at times. Obi-Wan pressed one fist against the door and then forced it to spread flat, palm against the durasteel. He focused on breathing out his own frustration as composure and peace. For all the firmness in Anakin’s voice, there had been no real bite to it; his scent held just a hint of sweet rain. It only strengthened Obi-Wan’s resolve, because it meant Anakin _wanted_ him there. 

“Anakin, it will be worse for both of us if you keep me out. You’d never hurt me and we both know it, especially…especially not now.” Everything had happened so quickly that he hardly knew _what_ to think, yet; they’d talked about children, of course, but he hadn’t expected this _now_. But if there was one thing he knew entirely, etched so deeply that it was a part of him, it was that he was safe with Anakin.

That _they_ were safe with Anakin, Obi-Wan reminded himself; that plural might take some getting used to, but he liked the way it sounded.

“The healers say that the pregnancy will soften some aspects of the rut,” Obi-Wan said, voice calm, when Anakin didn’t respond. “They say that there’s no danger for me or our child. So don’t make me sit out here and…and _smell_ you, Anakin. Don’t make me listen. I’m certainly not going anywhere. I’ll be sitting here, wanting you and feeling how much you need me.” Obi-Wan could only hope that Anakin wouldn’t think that was too cruel, later, once his rut had passed and his scent had softened like mist. It was calculating, certainly, but that didn’t make it any less true, and the child now growing beneath his heart wasn’t the only thing here that was Obi-Wan’s to protect.

There was a groan on the other side of the door, thick with want, and then silence. Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, squeezed them tight, used the discomfort of it to sharpen his focus. He could already see how this would play out in his mind, an awful, endless circuit. Anakin would do what he could for himself alone, fucking into his own hand again and again, but as he fell fully into rut, it would never seem enough. The scent and the sound of Anakin burning up, driven by hunger, would drive Obi-Wan nearly mad with need—he could already feel his own slick sliding down his thighs. And that, in turn, would only drive Anakin into a frenzy over what he wouldn’t allow himself to accept.

Maybe Obi-Wan _should_ go off planet—to protect _Anakin_. It would be easier, at the least, if Anakin couldn’t sense him, couldn’t _smell_ him. It made his heart catch in his throat and his hole ache around nothing in protest, and he fought to keep his misery under control. To let Anakin suffer his rut alone because they had been forcibly separated by the war would have been bad enough; to feel him here, so close but so distant, and to know that Obi-Wan could so easily alleviate his suffering…

It was unbearable.

“Anakin, let me in,” he said again, and he could hear the slightest curl of distress in his own voice as frustration broke through his veneer of calm. “Just…Anakin, please.”

It wasn’t a word he said often, not in _that_ tone, not even in heat. Maybe that was why it worked, in the end, but as the door finally slid open to put Anakin within reach, Obi-Wan was too busy treading the waters of his own relief to really care. Anakin had already shed his robes and tunics, leaving him in simple trousers, and Obi-Wan catalogued the tense lines of his body. The elegance of his clavicles was already beaded with sweat, his shoulders rising and falling unevenly as he tried to control his breathing. His curls, like sunbeams in the dark…they were even more tousled than they typically were, as if he’d been digging his fingers through them, and Obi-Wan wanted very much to get his own hands in them. Not to smooth them, really, but to claim that dishevelment as his own.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow that Anakin would be able to read, even half-gone as he was. _Well?_

Anakin’s eyes burned with a heat that was quickly descending into fever, and his fingers trembled, as if they wanted to close around Obi-Wan’s arms, tighten around his waist, trace along the line of his jaw.

“Let me take care of you,” was all Obi-Wan said out loud in the end, a statement and a request all at once.

Anakin’s jaw worked, teeth grinding painfully. “ _I_ should be taking care of _you_.”

“You are, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently. “By giving us what we both need, you are.”

Anakin’s eyes closed momentarily before fluttering open again, the blue of his irises blown almost entirely black with need. “Will you…will you kiss me?” Anakin asked, voice hoarse, and Obi-Wan knew that for all Anakin’s instincts to _touch_ , he was still scared of taking too much.

Well, Obi-Wan had no similar reservations—not about taking Anakin’s disquiet into himself so that he could cut it at its source, not about giving whatever he possibly could. Not with Anakin.

It felt like the easiest thing he’d ever done to take two steps forward, hitting the keypad to close the door behind him, and press into Anakin’s space. He had to stretch up just a little to tug Anakin’s head down to meet him, fingers clenching into Anakin’s hair, but then Obi-Wan was licking inside and Anakin tasted like freedom—like sun on the clouds and breezes unbounded.

Anakin held still for another minute, and then, with a sharp groan that softened into a snarl, he pushed Obi-Wan back up against the nearest surface—which happened to be the door.

 _At least it’s good for something_ , Obi-Wan thought, gasping out his approval as Anakin framed him in against the smooth surface, body all heat and pressure and weight. He felt himself lifted up against it, his legs urged up around Anakin’s hips, and then Anakin’s hands were pulling at his tunics to reach skin beneath, fingers spreading to span the still-smooth stretch of his stomach. _More than one something_ , Obi-Wan added inanely to himself as he let his head fall back against the door, too caught up in the delirious press of Anakin’s body to spare the effort of holding it up. He was more inclined to be charitable to that door now that it was no longer separating him from Anakin. He almost felt sorry for having considered cutting through it.

“Like this,” Anakin panted against his mouth, voice almost over-thick as he ground his hips forward, “or you can ride me. I won’t crush you that way.”

“You’ll hardly do that anyway,” Obi-Wan sniped back, tightening his legs sharply around Anakin’s hips, one heel digging into Anakin’s back and his fingers constricting in Anakin’s hair. He could feel himself growing wetter by the minute as Anakin strained against him, achingly hard, and _kriff_ , but Obi-Wan wished their trousers weren’t in the way. He wished Anakin could simply fuck into him _now_ , here where Obi-Wan was surrounded by his body and his scent and his need.

“No, we’re… _Obi-Wan_.” Anakin kissed erratically down the line of Obi-Wan’s face, along the curve of his jaw and neck, so that he could mouth wetly at the mating bite nestled above the dip of one collarbone.

“Does that mean you _won’t_ want me on my hands and knees later?” Obi-Wan could practically feel Anakin imagining it—the clench of Obi-Wan’s hands in the sheets, the arch of his spine, the slick stretch of his hole around Anakin’s cock. Anakin groaned again, and then he was stumbling back the few steps to their bed, but he was taking Obi-Wan with him, so that was okay.

“Like this,” Anakin said again, and his voice was more certain this time, though no less desperate, and then he was tugging off both his trousers and Obi-Wan’s before falling back to the mattress and pulling Obi-Wan up over him. Obi-Wan barely had time to savour the tight spread of his legs around Anakin’s hips before Anakin was sinking inside, Obi-Wan so open and wet that it was one endless, inevitable stroke. “Force, Obi-Wan…”

“That’s it, Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathed, bracing his hands on Anakin’s chest against the delicious fullness of it, the _rightness_ of it. His voice caught on each syllable as Anakin fucked up into him again and again, a counterpoint to the sound of each wet slide. “That’s it, just… _oh_.” Anakin’s hands were wrapped around Obi-Wan’s hips, rucking up the hem of the tunic he still wore, lifting him just enough to rock him back down, but his thumbs…oh, his thumbs were spread as wide as they could possibly be, stretching to frame Obi-Wan’s stomach, rubbing gently back and forth. His lips were pulled back in a snarl of pleasure, but his eyes were glued to Obi-Wan’s stomach with a steadfastness that reached into Obi-Wan’s core. The combination of that tenderness and the relentless press of Anakin’s cock inside of him, knot already swelling as Anakin began to come in long surges, was enough to have Obi-Wan’s fingers scrabbling at Anakin’s chest, at the brink of orgasm himself.

Before his knot had even fully finished forming, Anakin was suddenly sitting up, shifting Obi-Wan firmly in his lap. The change in angle caused Obi-Wan’s thighs to stretch wider around Anakin’s hips, Anakin’s knot pressing hard against that spot inside of him, and somehow, Obi-Wan still managed to be stunned _every time_ at how _good_ this always felt.

But then Anakin was tugging him closer, and somehow, it seemed it could feel even better, because Anakin’s mouth closed to suck around one nipple, and Obi-Wan came messily between them at the steady pull of those lips.

Anakin made a pleased sound at that, still rocking into Obi-Wan to draw his orgasm out, but he made no move to pull his mouth away. For long moments, knotted deep inside Obi-Wan, Anakin alternated between gentle suction and stillness, tongue sometimes simply curling around the hard peak, until Obi-Wan’s chest felt so tender that he wondered if this was how it would feel when it was full of milk. Anakin watched him the whole time, eyes latched onto his face, as if watching for discomfort. He needn’t have, Obi-Wan thought; the soreness of it felt so good that even though he’d just come, he could feel himself getting wetter—wetter than all of the slick that had eased their coupling, wetter than Anakin’s come inside his hole, stuffed deep by Anakin’s knot.

Later, Obi-Wan knew, they would have to sit down and really think about what this meant for them—not just in the midst of a war, but really, _truly_ meant for them. But for now, with Anakin filling his body, head nestled against his chest, Obi-Wan just let himself be content.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and thank you so much to the prompter! I've never written pregnancy before and my sole experience with writing A/B/O to this point was like, a >600 word fic, but I had a blast writing this.
> 
> I'm [treescape](https://treescape.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you want to say hi or drop a prompt!
> 
> There's a small snippet that takes place a few months later posted [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783091/chapters/68013835).


End file.
